Portrait of a Family
by C. de la Fere
Summary: Portrait of the most ancient and noble family of Prince. This is mainly a story about how my OCs fit into the overall picture...action, angst, much fun for me to write :T for language in chapter 2 and a bit of violence...
1. Alana Prince

**Disclaimer:** Alas, Severus Snape does not belong to me. Nor do his father or mother; the entire Harry Potter world belongs to J.K. Rowling. I do however, own Alana and Sardelle, and Alana's parents, but that's about it.

I am really really really enjoying writing this. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a Snape/Prince devotee, well, Severus has a cousin, a sister, nephew and niece...

enjoy :)

edited after HPB changing Alana from _Snape_ to _Prince_.

* * *

_The dark street was ablaze with color. _

_Shots of red, yellow, green and purple whizzed everywhere; the auror's long, sleek blade reflecting each color as it flew around her, protecting her from harsh physical contact with her faceless enemies. The cold steel bit sharply into anything it brushed and was very quickly stained in crimson while her wand felled those who were far out of reach. Her long blonde hair had started to escape from its tie and strands whipped around her head as she lunged and spun. Her long blue cloak lay discarded at the other end of the street, leaving her dressed in plain white robes now stained with red; just another casualty of today's battle. _

_A small part of her wondered just who she was fighting against, no doubt she probably knew a good few of them personally. A childhood friend? An old acquaintance? Or perhaps even ... her cousin? She knew so many that had turned, but now it didn't matter. To survive tonight, others had to die by her blade and her wand. The auror only hoped that it was no one that she would forever regret the loss of..._

Alana Prince reclined lightly in a plush armchair looking out over her modest home in the Northern New England countryside. Despite so many ties in Europe, the middle aged woman had opted to retire to America - far from any family, any obligations, or any of her history; or rather, her family's history.

Back in Europe, she was one of _them_. A pureblood and member of a family known for supporting Voldemort. Yes, Voldemort. Not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, not You-Know-Who, and especially not even the Dark Lord. Voldemort. Alana was the only member of her family - alive or not - that had ever been able to speak the forbidden name.

Of course, this had caused great resentment of her within the family. Anger for her "brashness", embarrassment for her "insubordination", guilt in case _he_ ever found out, and jealousy from those who could not bring themselves to push the syllables past their lips. Her own father was so terrified that she used the name that he took it out in anger on both Alana and her mother. Only Alana's cousin, Sardelle Snape, seemed sympathetic to her, but given that both Sardelle's father and brother were agents of Voldemort, there was never any safe way for her to express this to her until she had left for America where Sardelle had sent money for her to live off of.

For, ultimately, Alana had been disowned. Her grandfather, being the eldest man in the family at the time, had made the decision when she came of age. Upon his word, Alana was written out of every will, erased from the family tree and forbidden to ever claim any tie to the family in any way. All she was left with was an empty name - a symbol of bitterness and what she viewed as a worthless heritage.

And so, renouncing her family, Alana became an auror. She fought fiercely against Voldemort, focusing all of her blame and hatred towards that one man, if he could even be called a man. Countless Death Eaters fell to her blade, countless more broke under her wand. The only auror to use a non magical weapon, she became famous within her own ranks and those of her enemies. The sword itself became her only trusted friend. Working closely with Alastor Moody, Alana was ultimately co-responsible for the destruction, persecution and imprisonment of dozens of Voldemort's followers. Only one case had she ever felt any shape or form of sympathy, much to the disappointment of Moody.

_Rows of benches lined the walls of the court chamber. Witches and Wizards filled every available space, making the room smaller and closterphobic. The air was thick and the silence even thicker. Anxiety within Alana was almost to the bursting point as the door at the far end of the room swung open and three figures slid towards a lone chair in the center. Alana went cold. The dementors were terrible creatures; she could never even being to imagine what life inside Azkaban was like, yet any and all servants of Voldemort deserved such a life, right? Alastor, who was sitting next to Alana to her right, certainly thought this way, as she herself had thought at every other trial she had ever been to. In fact, it was her testimony or argument that many times landed the accused inside that terrible place for the rest of their lives. Why should this time be different?_

_A glance down to the other side of the chamber was her first answer. In the front row on the side of the room facing the door sat a slender, pale figure. Soft black hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, down blue and black robes, and framing an ashen white face with dulled blue eyes. Outwardly, Alana's cousin remained composed, just as any pureblood woman had been taught from childhood, showing no emotion or opinion of the situation. Inwardly, however, Alana knew that Sardelle was being torn violently apart. _

_Alana shifted her acute gaze painfully back to the prisoner now being bound to the chair. He had sat only after sharing a short, heartfelt glance with his sister, perhaps their last. A small quiver from Sardelle was all that betrayed her immense grief and sorrow to those around them, but Alana knew her cousin better than most everyone else present. _

_As the golden snakes tied him in place, the accused turned an empty gaze from Sardelle, to Alana. This was not a warm, reassuring gaze like the one reserved for his sister, but one of hatred and angry passion. He glared at her from under a lanky mess of shoulder length greasy black hair, his eyes seeming to be the only bit of him that was still alive. She could meet this with only an empty look from her numb eyes. Part of her hoped beyond all else that today's presence of Albus Dumbledore could make this trial any different from the many others that she had been present at. _

_"Severus Snape," came the curt voice of Barty Crouch, "you have been brought here, before the Council of Magical Law, so that we may pass judgment on you for the crime of being a Death Eater, and for the numerous crimes that you have committed in the name of your "Dark Lord", the worst including the murders of..." _

The years had been kind to Alana. Like any other member of any other ancient noble family, she was extremely pale and delicately shaped. One of the few in her own family to be draped in soft blonde hair, Alana did not suffer the look of extreme pallidness that others of her complexion bared with the contrast of ebony hair. Vivid blue eyes perched over high, well defined cheek bones didn't shine as much as they used to, but they had a much more relaxed expression now that her days of violence were over. A slender nose, inherited from her mother, was, like her blonde hair, yet another characteristic setting Alana apart from the other Snapes.

Physically, Alana was built like all the other women in the family. Tall, slender, elegant and graceful; yet years of training and fighting had toned her body and shaped her muscles so she was not quite as thin as her dear cousin Sardelle.

Alana's residence was rather modest by a typical pureblood family's standards. She owned a handful of square kilometers of land (mainly woods) in Maine near the coast of the Atlantic, with a clearing in the middle three acres large where she had bought an old comfortable home to turn into her castle. Sardelle had sent her money in the form of valuables to sell or pawn after Alana had gone away; had she sent actual money someone would have been sure to notice and reprimand Sardelle for aiding her outcast cousin.

The two women were indeed very close, as their bonds went deeper than sustaining one another monetarily. Only four years separated them. They spent their entire lives together as sisters, as their two fathers were such close brothers. Playing together with dolls or on swings, riding through the English countryside on miniature horses, traveling through the Scottish Highlands, playing pranks on Sardelle's younger brother, life had been good back then. Even when their fathers or went into rages and beat and yelled at their mothers, the two girls were there to comfort each other; and yes, even Sardelle's brother would spend such dark nights huddled together with the two girls wishing the yelling would stop and taking refuge in each other's strength. They had all been so close once.

But then something changed. Lucius Malfoy, an older Slytherin in Sardelle's year, befriended Severus and coaxed him farther and farther towards a life of servitude to Voldemort, something both of their fathers had in common. Sardelle was forced into an arranged marriage with the Count Ian Campbell of Glasgow and sent off to him just after the completion of her last year at Hogwarts. Alana was left to watch the destruction of her cousin without Sardelle, but in a way, she was glad Sardelle wasn't there to see it herself. It was during this time that Alana learned to say Voldemort's name, and it was during this time, in her fifth year, that she told her head of house, Professor Flitwick, that she wanted to be an auror. Partially fearing for her existence, Alana had confided this to the Headmaster too after her grandfather had renounced her. Sardelle was the only other person that was informed of her intentions.

_"I must say, Alana, that you have surprised both Professor Flitwick and myself with your decision to become an auror. Especially given the current status of both your family and yourself." Dumbledore said softly. His blue eyes peered at her innocent face over his half-moon spectacles, worry etched in his wise features. "I would suggest that you keep this decision mainly to yourself over the next few years. At least until you are ready to apply to the Ministry. It could be very dangerous for you otherwise."_

_"Yes, Professor." She managed. Keep it a secret? From whom? Severus was more than well aware of her intentions, and if he knew, then Voldemort himself would probably find out sooner or later. She had already sent her owl to Sardelle telling her that she was abandoning those who had abandoned her and that she would fight in the upcoming war. What else was there to hide? And from whom? _

_One thing puzzled Alana though. It was obvious that Dumbledore knew about the Death Eaters in her family. How could he not, with Severus right under his nose? He would probably know about Malfoy too, and that Bellatrix Black that always hung around them was more blatant than both Lucius and Severus put together. Why did he not do anything? Dumbledore could stop them all from joining. He could stop them in their tracks. Why didn't he? He had the chance, but he didn't act. Alana promised herself that she would never let herself sit back and watch something ever again. She would choose to act, and if she couldn't act, then she would die trying. She would fight. _

_She would fight._


	2. Sardelle Snape

**disclaimer:** All belongs to JKR 

**Author's note:** This chapter isn't quite finished, but I'll be sure to do so in the coming day. I was so proud that I'd updated this one that I couldn't wait to put it up :)

* * *

"_You WHAT?"_

_She stared at him, eyes wide, not necessarily with disbelief, but etched with disappointment and worry._

"_But….but after all we've seen, all we know, you can't! You simply CAN'T!"_

_She grabbed at the front of his robes._

"_Please don't. Please don't do this…there are other ways!"_

_He waited for her to loosen her grip and took her white hands in his, replying softly "I have to… there are no other options." He paused as her gaze slipped and tears welled up in her desperate eyes. "Sar, look at me, just do me a favor and play along, ok? You don't have to go this far…just play along. I'm going to do everything I can to keep you safe."_

_She shook her head "Not for me, don't do this for me, please no." And she fell into his embrace until a thought came to her causing a sudden, fleeting hope. "Tell them! Tell him! Tell him you're a halfblood! He might turn you away, and we can just avoid all of this!"_

"_Sar, he knows already, and he doesn't care. It's just….not to be brought up. All that matters is that one of us goes. He wants our family's loyalty; I'm enough to prove that."_

_She shook her head slowly and whispered through her tears to her brother. "Alana's applying to the Ministry. She's going to be an auror; you'll be fighting your own blood, Severus, please...I don't know how to bridge that! And if either of you end up…"_

_She couldn't finish, but he didn't expect her to. All he could do was hold her and reassure her that everything would work out. His sister was strong; she'd be alright through the coming years. Though she was married, Severus wasn't worried about her having anyone to protect her, he'd see to that himself. If anyone was going to survive this war, it would be Sardelle. He made this promise to her silently before heading out that night escorted by Lucius Malfoy and Rudolphus Lestrange._

Lofty white clouds rolled slowly across the Scottish estate as Sardelle peered out from between huge blue velvet draperies. Early wrinkles graced her brow from many years of hard work and worry. Just as Severus had promised, she had been able to successfully keep herself and her children from the war – mostly thanks to his own work within the Dark Lord's ranks. The cost had been her husband, back near the end of the first war, but although his death had grieved her, there had never been any love between the two. Her children were safe, and that was what had mattered.

In fact, they were all still alive at this point, so late in the game. Herself, her son, her daughter, brother and cousin. So many other families had been reduced to shreds. Why had they been spared? Luck, cunning, benevolence on the part of the Dark Lord…a combination of the three.

Of course, Sardelle had not stayed the weak, sobbing young woman that she had been when her brother told her that he was to join the Death Eaters. The young halfblood had promised herself to play her part – she'd "play along" just as well as he could. Within no time, she found herself going to functions at the Malfoy and Lestrange manors on the arm of her brother, and quickly became "friends" with the rest of the women…Well, except Bellatrix, but then, she was viewed much more as one of the men then on of the "wives." Narcissa, especially, decided to befriend the new Snape, and thus, Sardelle became "established" within the ring of followers.

"_Escaped?...I knew something big was planned, but now? I didn't know he was ready…"_

"_It's mayhem," stated the nearly frantic head in the fireplace. "The guards: all dead. We've already lost a few good aurors, the rest of us are tracing them, but its damn near impossible. Sar – do you know ANYTHING that could help?"_

_Sardelle glanced over her shoulder, her body well positioned so as to hide her cousin in the fire, as a house elf flew into the room and stopped at the door bent over double and panting._

"_Excuse Yinny, Mistress, but Mistress Malfoy is here, and is needing you right away" it gasped._

"_I'm coming" she said, and the house elf left to relay her message. Sardelle turned back towards her cousin. "Portkeys." She whispered. "Escapees couldn't possibly have the strength to apparate. If you trace apparitions then you'll get nowhere."_

"_Will do, thanks!"_

"_Take care, Alana." And as the head disappeared, Sardelle ran at full speed toward the entrance hall when Narcissa stood supporting a large black mass._

"_The Dark Lord said that only one person should be housed per household, and Lucius already volunteered to take Rastaban in. She needs somewhere," panted Narcissa, nodding to what Sardelle recognized as the other Black sister._

"_Of course…here" and Sardelle slid under Bellatrix's other arm to help drag the sister into one of the guest bedrooms._

That was the start of the second war. So much had happened to put her in the position that she was. Those critical of her would say that she was "playing on both sides," like her brother. This wasn't true – she was surviving. And quite frankly, she'd done a damn good job of it. That month caring for Bellatrix had been probably one of the more intricate balancing acts she'd ever accomplished as Narcissa spent most of the time at the manor and Severus came back and forth more than he probably ever had.

It was in that time that her daughter, under the guiding had of her brother, discovered a real love of potionry. Sardelle watched as Eileen brewed and fed all different kinds of liquids to Bellatrix while Alexander, her older son, looked on barely able to hide his disapproval. She knew that when he went off to town, he was relaying everything to his aunt. She only hoped that, in turn, Alana had the sense to tell him to remain the host and not seem to defect.

Even more than that, she hoped that Eileen wasn't taking too much to the Black sisters.

But time passed, Bellatrix got back onto her feet and went off again to live with her own family. Sardelle cringed inwardly when the Dark Lord praised her daughter, comparing her healing skill to those of her uncle Severus. Outwardly, she was grateful.


End file.
